Ice and Flowers
by Zetera
Summary: HBP SPOILER! One Shot fic. Lament for the loss of Dumbledore through a grandfather and his grandchild. I'll leave it up to you to figure out who the grandfather is.


_He walks a lonely road. It's quiet there. The birds sing softly._

_The frost is crisp, but the sun is hot. He walks amidst the bare trees; their dark, spindly branches stretch out towards him._

_Their ice melts and drips unto the flowers at his feet._

_He was struck down most brutally, no heed was given._

_Flowers in autumn? Of course, my child. Have you never heard of the brave winter flowers? They would die rather than shrink from the darkness._

_Ice and flowers. They are what follow him now. _

An old man sits in the silence, a little white child at his knee. His eyes are shining, bright with memory.

_The day is bright, my child. It shines upon his silver hair, wound about him like a sparkling stream._

_Those blue eyes cried, my dear. They had seen a century's worth of tears, but remained blind._

_Blind to twisted agony, to the truth and lies of spies._

_The reality of evil, my child. May you never face that. _

The rocking chair rocks, the grandfather clock chimes. A bee buzzes by the windowsill.

_All for you, my child._

_The old man, he continued on his road._

_Yes, dear, he was quite alone. No, not for lack of friends, but for lack of fear._

_He taught many in the Good Ways. You know that, child, for it's the way your mother has taught you._

_He was struck down that day, in the dark. Upon a high tower, child; the kind that you would not dare to tread upon._

_Struck down by a foe counted as a friend._

_Sadly, he did beg in the end._

_Or so I hear it._

_It is for reasons like this that good men still fear the night._

_There was no blood to stain the snow. His silver hair continued to ripple and shine as he fell such a distance that you would not dare to climb, child._

_But there is no snow in June, you cry? I speak of the snow that caps men's hearts, my dear. It is a great pity that snow never melts away, no matter how often it is washed with blood._

_But there was no blood that day, child. No blood to stain the snow. I watched as the flowers crumpled around him. But the ice, it did not melt._

_Where was the hero, you say? Why child, he watched it all. Though do not judge too quickly, he could not be anything but the witness to this act._

_The hero did continue, child. He strode forth alone. I was so lucky to have known him then. I was almost he._

_The hero fought bravely through it all. He gave himself completely._

_He walked the lonely road too, my child. A road we must be thankful that we never have to tread, and glad that there are men that will do it._

_Hush child, wipe your tears, your mother will scold. My story is not done._

_Did he win, you say? Is the war over, child? Tell me, when did it begin? It was always there, my dear, and it always will be. It will forever haunt those who tread amidst the ice and flowers._

_Evil remains._

_Perhaps you need to know that. You are so young, and yet, your years will pass you by too quickly if you are ignorant in our world._

_The reality of evil, child. May that be something that you learn to face, and to face boldly._

_He was a great man, my dear. We lost more that night than a leader. We lost the essence of our cause. The hero struggled valiantly, my dear, he was not to be deterred. The rest of us were lost. We tried to help the hero, but he would tell no one of his path. He wanted to make the old man proud. He wanted his vengeance for our world._

_Did he get it in the end, you say?_

_Child, my years are long, and I would not be here, blood traitor that I am, if he was not. Did you not hear that 'Love conquers all'?_

_Do not be cynical, my child, I cannot bear it in one so young. Allow life to leave its mark on you before you brand yourself with another's._

_Yes dear, the Dark One was destroyed. But as the good man said, we can keep fighting the battles, but the war is eternal._

_Is that a reason to give up, child?_

_Do not be afraid to answer._

_Many stronger men than you have claimed it so._

_But that would be wrong, child, don't you see? Of what worth would you be then?_

_You must be a flower against the ice._

_Yes, you are frail, and you may be crushed._

_But your essence will not die, child. And you will have stood strong for your right to be a flower amidst the winter ice._

_Just as the old man did._

_Just as the hero did. _

The grandfather lay back in his chair, as a darkness he had never known enveloped him. His brown eyes widened as he saw nothing to see. The snow white fingers of the little child took his cold hand and held it tightly. And there was no blood to stain the white carpet, or the flower pressed into his hand.


End file.
